Found (Books of Stone Book 1)

by B. L. Brunnemer

  I lifted my glass and tapped his. “Sounds good to me.” We finished our drinks.

  He slid out of the booth, then moved so I could climb out. The room spun.

  “Whoa, okay, more drunk than I thought,” I admitted, clinging to the booth.

  He lifted my chin so he could see my face. “Are you good to walk to the door while I pay the check?” I thought it over as I eyed the distance. I could probably manage it.

  “Yes, I will meet you outside,” I said as I looked up at him “The fresh air will help.”

  He nodded. “I’ll only be a few minutes.” He waited until I started walking before he went to the bar. I made my way through the crowded room rather well, considering I was a step away from slurring. I managed to get to the door without running into anyone in the crowd, which I thought was quite a feat. I pulled on my jacket and slipped outside. Snow was still falling, it was pretty. I moved out of the doorway and sat on the bench just outside the door. It was a beautiful night. The snow fell softly, and for once the city was quiet. I thought about Atticus and wondered again why he didn’t tell me. I took a breath and let it out slowly. The pub door opened and Ranulf stepped out, his gaze instantly finding me.

  “Ready?” he asked. I nodded before we started down the street.

  We walked in comfortable silence for a couple minutes, my fuzzy mind running over the stories he’d told me. Most of his stories had been about his family. Out of his seven brothers only two were still alive. His one sister had died in childbirth centuries ago. Apparently, female gargoyles had a lot of difficulties during pregnancy. He had enough battle stories that I began to understand him over dinner. He’d joined squad after squad and watched as the others found their Mates and left, while he stayed behind and did his duty, often alone. For 1336 years. He deserved his own happiness. Most of his stories had been about his family. Did he want one? I was curious.

  “You want a big family,” I said softly as we walked, “don’t you?”

  “Aye, but it’s not likely to happen. Not enough females to go around,” he replied.

  “And you haven’t met your Match,” I pointed out.

  He looked down at me and smiled. “So, he finally told you about that?”

  “Yes, if by he you mean Zahur,” I said pointedly. Ranulf sighed.

  “Atticus… don’t take it to heart. He’s the prickly sort,” he suggested.

  “Atticus is a prick. Got it,” I repeated, fighting back a giggle.

  He chuckled as we turned the corner.

  “You aren’t what I expected,” I admitted.

  “What did ye expect?”

  I smiled. “Someone much crazier.”

  He grinned. “Aye, I am that too.”

  I smiled to myself. I was walking down the street with a friend who was a gargoyle. It felt good. No, it was amazing. I wasn’t alone anymore. In fact, for the first time in years I was far from it.

  Ranulf

  The snow was falling faster, by morning there would be another three inches on the ground at least. The snow reminded me that it wasn’t long until Yule.

  “Christmas is only a few days away,” I said as I looked down at her. Her shoulders instantly tensed, her gaze on to the sidewalk. I watched her carefully as her smile disappeared. Her apartment had been bare. No decorations, not even a tree. “You don’t celebrate Christmas, do you?” I asked, already guessing the answer. She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes on the sidewalk.

  “I don’t really have anyone to celebrate it with,” she said, her voice small.

  “Well, lass, ye have a Match and three others here to celebrate with you this year,” I pointed out. Screw being subtle. “Evie?” She looked up and met my eyes. “I’m trying to find out if I need to get ye a gift.” She smiled sweetly, though her face grew a little paler at the word gift.

  “No, please, don’t get me a gift,” she said adamantly. “I don’t celebrate Christmas and I don’t do gifts.” Her refusal of Christmas bothered me. Yule had always been a special holiday for our family. Even now my brothers, Angus and Fergus, and I got together every year unless some duty kept us from meeting. It was the only time we ever saw each other. Why wouldn’t she like Yule? "Besides," her voice pulled me out of my head, "I think you'll be gone before Christmas anyway."

  I looked down at her. Her face was somber as we turned the corner. "What do you mean?" I asked.

  She gave me a small, sad smile. "Atticus wasn't going to tell me if I didn't go back with everyone. He was just going to leave me in the dark. So, I think you'll be leaving soon."

  Anger burned in my gut, I wanted to hit him. "That son of a-" I shook my head. "I don't get it. If I found my Match I'd be busting my arse to make sure she was happy. I'd be shouting from the roof that I'd found her. You wouldn't be able to drag me away from her."

  She chuckled.

  "He's being a moron,” I grumbled. I held up my phone. "I expected him to be calling every ten minutes. But no, he texted twice to check on you."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Is that why we went to a pub? To worry Atticus?"

  "That and because I needed to get away from him,” I admitted. Otherwise I was going to hit him. Atticus had always been cold, but he had been worse since meeting Evelyn.

  "That reminds me,” she said, "Astrid wanted me to say hi for her."

  Huh? "Who's Astrid?" I asked. I was buzzed but I wasn't drunk. I would remember if I had met an Astrid.

  "Oh, just the blonde werewolf you fought beside at the bar,” she said casually. My heart slammed in my chest. That blonde. God. Legs for days, and talk about curves! Damn! She had been beautiful.

  "Oh, her,” I muttered, trying to get the image of her punching another werewolf out of my head.

  She started laughing. I ignored it until she weaved into me. I caught her before she could lose her footing.

  “I shouldn’t have had that last one,” she said, her voice starting to slur.

  I wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. The steps to her building were just ahead.

  “Shite,” I grumbled. “I’m sorry, lass, I thought you might have a higher tolerance. You had scotch at your place.”

  She leaned into me, her balance off. “I do,” she admitted. “That last one just hit me.”

  I cursed as I kept her on her feet. “Come on, lass, I’ll get you inside.”

  “And if I’m sick, you have to hold my hair.” She looked up at me playfully. “You promised.”

  “Aye, I promised,” I assured her. “Now, let me get you inside.” She looked at the stairs and glared.

  “Oh. Stairs, my nemesis, we meet again,” she said dramatically. I chuckled as I helped her walk up the snow-covered steps. She pulled her keys out and opened the door. She held on tight to my arm as we walked in.

  “That last one really is hitting you,” I observed as I closed the door behind us.

  “Yes, I am sloshed,” she said with a smirk.

  “Are you feeling sick?” I asked, worried. She shook her head.

  “No. Just dizzy,” she said.

  I set her against the wall then crouched in front of her. “Hop on, lass. It’ll be faster.” She laughed as she climbed on my back. She rested her chin on my shoulder next to my ear. My hands went to her thighs before I stood and started up the stairs.

  “Oh, this is much better. The stairs hate me when I drink,” she giggled.

  I chuckled. “Don’t worry, lass. We’re almost there.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders to rest her hands on my chest. Poor thing was going to be hung over in the morning.

  When we reached the door, I opened it and carried her in. Atticus looked up from his laptop in the living room.

  “What did you do to her?” Atticus growled. He got up from the couch and stalked towards us.

  “I’m just drunk,” she explained, her voice matter of fact. “And when I’m drunk, stairs hate me.” I set her down to stand on her own. She moved towards the sofa. I helped keep her straight until she was leaning a
gainst the back of the couch.

  “You got her drunk?” Atticus snapped as I stepped back from her.

  “I got myself drunk,” she countered before turning to me. I kept watch on her out of the corner of my eye as Atticus glared at me. “Can you get me to my room, please?” I chuckled.

  “Oh no, you’re not my Match. I only promised to get ye home,” I said, putting my hands up in surrender. I met Atticus’s furious gaze. “This is your Match, you take care of her.” I walked backwards out the door. The look on Atticus’s face was murderous before I shut the door, laughing.

  Atticus

  I growled as Ranulf left. That asshole! Get her drunk then leave her here for me to deal with. She giggled behind her hand. I turned to her only for her to stop trying to hide it. She started laughing.

  “Your face is priceless,” she managed between giggles.

  I sighed. She really was drunk. Shit.

  She held up her hand and got herself under control. “Don’t worry, I can get myself to bed,” she slurred, an English accent suddenly evident. She started moving toward her room, using the sofa to help her along.

  I sighed then moved to help her, reaching her just as she let go of the sofa. She didn’t stumble but she wasn’t stable. Not wanting to take a chance of her falling, I scooped her up off her feet and held her against my chest.

  “Whoa,” she said. Her hands went to my shoulders. “A little warning would be nice.” I bit back the urge to lecture her on getting drunk. She probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning anyway.

  When we reached her room and I set her on her feet, she immediately went to the bed and laid down.

  “Thank you, Atticus,” she mumbled.

  “Not yet, Evelyn,” I told her. I took her arms and pulled her into a sitting position. She grumbled. I held her face until she opened those beautiful eyes and looked at me. “You need to drink some water.”

  “A cuppa and biscuits sounds better,” she countered, a London accent slipping out. I bit back a smile at the sound.

  “You won’t be awake that long,” I reminded her.

  She pointed vaguely to the bathroom door. “I keep a glass in there.”

  When I was sure she wasn’t going to lay down, I went into the bathroom. I found the glass by the sink. As I filled it she moved around in her bedroom, humming. At least she wasn’t going to sleep. I looked at the small womanly things here and there on the counter. A lovely, blue-tinted glass container for cotton balls with a silver lid, a matching one for make-up brushes. Even her soap dispenser matched. It all had a certain feminine feel. Smiling to myself, I shut off the tap and walked back into the bedroom. She was leaning against her carved headboard with her arms around her drawn up knees, her cheek resting against them. Her shoes and leggings had disappeared, but her sweater was still in place. I tried not to notice how soft her skin looked.

  I sat next to her and handed her the water. “Drink this and you can go to sleep.”

  Her eyes ran over my face. “You’re taking care of me,” she said softly, that accent sending chills over my body. “Why? You weren't even going to tell me.”

  Guilt ate at me. "And that would have been a mistake,” I admitted quietly. Leaving her without telling her what had happened would have been cruel. I am many things, but cruel has never been one of them. Over the last couple hours I had come to a decision. I might not be able to be her Mate, but that didn't mean I couldn't make sure she was alright. If I kept my distance, she'd be safe.

  She smiled then leaned forward and kissed me sweetly. My cock grew heavy from that one sweet, chaste kiss.

  When she pulled back she had a soft smile on her lips. “Thank you.”

  “Drink,” I reminded her gruffly, my heart racing in my chest. My body burned. Why the hell did she do that? Fucking Ranulf! He had to get her drunk. She quickly drank the water then handed me the glass. I set it on the night stand. “Now you can go to sleep.”

  She nodded, she was half asleep already. I stood and slid the blankets out from under her. She laid down and was almost out before I even covered her with her blankets. She snagged the blankets, snuggled down and curled up. Unable to stop myself, I brushed her hair from her face. She smiled softly. I clenched my fist.

  I had to leave. I needed time away from her. I shut off her light before closing the door and heading out of her apartment. I took several minutes out in the hall to give my body time to calm down. By then, I was tempted to kill Ranulf.

  In the living room of our apartment, Zahur, Falk and Ranulf were talking. They turned to me when I shut the door behind me.

  “You got her drunk,” I growled.

  Ranulf rolled his eyes. “She’s a grown female, she can handle herself.”

  “You’re not watching her tonight,” I stated. “Zahur, go over and take guard duty.”

  Zahur chuckled. “Guard another male’s Match? At night? No, thank you.” He shook his head. “If you want her protected, especially at night, you do it.”

  “Zahur,” I warned.

  Zahur shook his head. “I’m not stupid enough to do that. There are higher and older rules than you and your orders, Atticus.”

  I cursed and turned to Falk. He held his hands up and shook his head.

  “Fine,” I growled before turning around and walking out into the hall. I stepped into my room to get some pajamas for tonight. I was going to have to wear a shirt. I cursed the others as I stopped and took several deep breaths. Control, control, keep control.

  When I was calmer I walked over to her apartment and grabbed a pillow from the linen closet. Not bothering to pull out the sofa bed, I set down my night clothes then took off my jacket and sat down. Looking down at the floor, my mind went back to that kiss.

  Why the hell did she have to do that? And why the hell did she have to taste like fresh berries in the summer?

  6

  December 17

  Evelyn

  I was in the middle of a delicious dream involving a naked male when my phone rang. I jerked myself up and grabbed the phone out of reflex. I was barely awake when I answered.

  “Yeah, I’m here. I think,” I half slurred into the phone.

  “Evie, you need to get your ass down here.” Brian’s voice was panicked. That woke me up instantly.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got a vamp body here that’s been torn to pieces,” he said quietly. “It looks like a werewolf kill.” Damn it! I jumped out of bed and headed for my bedroom door.

  “Has anyone else seen it?” I asked as I moved into the living room. Atticus looked up from his book and spotted me, his eyes growing wide.

  “Yeah, his ‘next of kin’ who happened to be a vampire,” Brian told me.

  “I’ll be there in five!” I hung up the phone, grabbed my keys and headed for the door. Atticus grabbed my arm. His touch brought me to a stop, my heart slowed as calm slid through me. What the …?

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  “There’s a vamp body in the morgue that looks like a werewolf kill, and the vamps already know about it,” I told him quickly. “So, I have to go down there and figure out if it really is before the two groups go to war.” Atticus was only quiet for half a beat.

  “Alright, but you need to put on pants first,” he pointed out. I blinked and looked down. I was in a pair of purple hipster panties and my sweater from last night.

  “Damn it,” I growled as I ran for my room. I quickly pulled on jeans and stuffed my feet into sneakers. I didn’t bother with the bra and ran back into the apartment. The others were standing in the hall now, Atticus explaining what was going on. I grabbed my wool jacket, ran between them and headed down the stairs while I searched my contacts. There were curses behind me as they followed. I put my phone to my ear as I slammed my shoulder into the door. I searched the empty street and found Atticus’s car.

  “Someone get me to the morgue,” I ordered. Everyone got moving.

  “I expected to hear from you, Evel
yn,” Craig, Lemora’s personal assistant, was practically joyful.

  “Put her on, Craig!” I snapped as I climbed in the back with Zahur and Falk. Atticus took the driver’s seat as Ranulf took the front.

  “I’m sorry to say she’s a little busy at the moment,” Craig said his voice sickeningly sweet. Atticus cursed, reached back and put my seatbelt on me before he gunned it down the street.

  “I know, that’s what we need to talk about,” I pointed out calmly. Atticus took a corner too fast, throwing me into Zahur. “I know about the dead vamp, I’m heading to the morgue now.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Craig preened. “We’ve already investigated. It was a wolf kill, we’re just preparing an appropriate response.” That’s it.

  “Put. Her. On,” I growled into the phone, “or I’ll rip your guts out and use them as decorations for my Christmas tree. All thirty feet of them.” The car went silent. So was Craig. He knew I wasn’t messing around. I wasn’t known in this city for making empty threats.

  “I’ll transfer you to her immediately,” Craig said in his professional tone.

  “Thank you,” I replied in the same manner. It wasn’t long before there was a voice in my ear.

  “Ms. De Haven.” The vampire Queen of Chicago’s voice rolled through my ear like fog.

  “Ms. Lemora, I’m aware of the situation that has occurred,” I said in a polite, professional voice. “I’m on my way now to investigate the incident.”

  “We’ve already investigated, dear. It’s a wolf kill,” she said in a cool voice with a slight southern accent. The accent was fake; the vamp was from France.

  “We have an agreement, Lemora,” I reminded her, my voice firm. “Any altercation between species in the area and you go through me first. Control your people until I figure out what happened.” There was a long silence.

  “Alright,” Lemora sighed. “Investigate, but I want news before dawn and proof by dusk.”

  “You’ll hear from me before sunrise,” I said before I hung up.